


Migration

by ViaLethe



Series: The Popular Theory [6]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Birds, Birthday Presents, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 02:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18298445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe
Summary: Presents are more than just a thing, River knows; the intent is the gift, as much as the object.





	Migration

That the Captain's taken her to the market for her birthday ought to be more than enough, ought to account for all the feelings spilling over inside her, staining her inside, bright as paint.

There's more to it though, she knows, all built into the way they're connected, invisible threads tugging her along in his wake. Sometimes he looks back to check on her with his eyes; once, when the crowd presses close, he takes her hand in his, and River feels the threads wrap tight, binding wrist to wrist, where their pulses connect.

Eventually, he lets go, and she drifts along like a shuttle, pulled by sights and sounds and all the vivid life the marketplace can offer.

He comes back for her after a while (he'll always come back for her, she knows), to find her staring at a cage, two little green birds huddled inside.

“Don't tell me you got a hankering for a pet,” he says. “Put a creature like that in front of Kaylee, might as well give up on ever getting anything fixed, cause she'll play with them dawn til dusk.”

“They want to fly free,” she says. “Isn't right that they should be locked up. They can't sing when they're shut away; too hard to feel, to see.”

He watches the back of her head (she doesn't need to see to know), and she strokes a bar of the cage, listening to the defeated little chirps that are all they can manage, stifled sounds when they should be bursting with so much more.

“Least they got each other, right?” Mal asks, and takes her hand again, though there's no crowd to threaten them here.

“They're lovebirds,” she says. “They need a bond to live.”

When he leads her away, it's not the same, all the vividness and her bright joy in the day dimmed.

He drops her off at the ship and vanishes again, leaving her diminished; it's not until night falls that she sees him once more, coming down the long path to the ship, something dangling from his hand.

“Brought you a present, albatross,” he says. “It bein' your birthday and all.”

The cage, when he hands it to her, is lighter, and she finds the door open, the birds flown. “Figured you were right about birds not belonging in cages,” Mal says, watching her as she watches the empty space, her heart spilling over in her chest.

“They're flying free now.” She doesn't need to hear him say anything, not this time, any more than he needs to hear _thank you_ to know what this means to her; the threads are woven too thick around them now for words, so thick she's surprised, when she looks up, to find they're still invisible, that there's empty air between her and the hand he's reaching out.

“I expect so,” he says. “What say we join 'em?”

She takes the hand he's offering, curling her fingers around his like they belong, and laughs, letting all the feelings inside her grow, and escape, coloring the night. They have each other, and _Serenity_ is waiting.


End file.
